Page 99 of My Hero
The knight who’d sprung from the cloth wagon now tossed Garth one of his two swords. To her chagrin, the weapon looked as natural in the chaplain’s hands as the Bible. Garth leaped from the pyre, scorching his tunic as he just cleared the flames burning high now.
“Come.” As the wool merchant urged her toward the haven of the castle wall, Cynthia caught a glimpse of the pretty, dark-haired wench still flirting with the guard. As she watched, to her amazement, the lady whipped a silver sword from beneath her skirts and, without blinking, savagely attacked the former object of her affections. The man drew his dagger, scarcely able to defend himself from the woman’s fierce blows.
“Never mind her,” the cloth merchant said, tugging Cynthia by the wrist. “She’s only showing off.”
At last out of the press, Cynthia stared in wonder at the turmoil taking place around her. Here and there, what had appeared to be crippled beggars shrugged off their ragged cloaks to reveal coats of mail and gleaming swords. They hauled the scarlet guardsmen from their mounts, leaving a fray of confused, walleyed horses rearing in the close confines of the courtyard. The peasants scattered from the trampling hooves, dropping staffs and aleskins in their haste to escape. The fire blazed on, high now against the shimmering towers of Wendeville.
In the middle of the melee, Cynthia spotted Garth. In his smudged and tattered tunic, his teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, he looked nothing like a man of the cloth. He’d become a warrior. He slashed right and left, pummeling shields, nicking mail, wounding flesh. He spun and lunged as intuitively as if he’d been born to the blade, moving with the grace and power of a wolf on the hunt.
And while the tumult grew around her, Cynthia noticed that a great green wave poured slowly in through the gates—men mounted in such tight formation that their horses rode flank to flank. The wool merchant saw them, too.
“It’s fortunate my husband arrived early, though he had a devil of a time finding Garth. You see, Holden’s been at Wendeville for almost a week now with his spies,” she confided, “secretly planning your rescue. The fighting should be over soon enough now that the de Ware armies have come out of the wood.” She winced as the dark-haired wench spun past to sink her sword into an unfortunate victim’s thigh.
Holden was Garth’s brother. Then the dark-haired warrior wench must be… “Cambria?” she murmured.
The wool merchant smiled. “The one and only.”
“And you’re…Linet?”
The poor woman had no time to answer. Her green eyes widened in alarm as the executioner’s blade whizzed over their head, missing them by inches.
“Sorry, my ladies!” the man called as he pursued a terrified guard.
“I’m Linet, and that is my reckless husband.”
“Duncan?”
“You may call him Dolt, if you like,” she said with a frown of mock severity. “He’s in rare form today.” She clucked her tongue. “It seems to me he lit the pyre a little too soon. You might have been scorched.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I told him Holden should have played the executioner. He has the more suitable temperament for it. But nay, Duncan just had to have the villain’s role. He simply adores that ebony worsted cloak.” She shook her head. “Men.”
Cynthia’s head was spinning. She frowned, trying to understand. “Holden…was the man in your cart.”
“Aye, and if he slashed any of my swatches with those great blade of his, there’ll be the devil to pay.”
Cynthia felt overwhelmed. As much chaos riddled her brain as filled the courtyard. Moments before, she’d been prepared to die. Now she chatted with Garth’s kin as if they’d been friends forever. Her executioner had become her savior, and her gentle chaplain had become her sword-wielding hero.
The de Ware knights filled half the courtyard now. Few had bothered to lower a lance or raise a blade. Their sheer numbers were enough to intimidate most of the scarlet knights, who readily surrendered their weapons, kneeling for mercy on the sod.
Cynthia searched among the confusion until she spotted Garth. He had ceased fighting, but his chest still heaved with unleashed strength. It was a side of him she’d never beheld. With his snapping eyes and a bloodied sword gleaming in his fist, he looked like an avenging saint.
“Go on,” Linet said, nudging her forward. “It’s safe enough now. Go to him.”
She wanted nothing more. Leaving Linet behind, she picked her way through the crush of people, one arm shielding her belly. She was halfway to Garth when he swiveled his head to look at her. His shoulders dropped, and his face lit up with a strange mixture of emotions—relief, wonder, perplexity…but mostly sheer adoration.
She felt as if she were made of pure light, so well did his look warm her. All the weeks spent in darkness vanished. All her fears dissolved like water into the soil. His gaze felt like a protective cloak wrapped around her, her and their babe.
He dropped his sword, and she rushed into his embrace with all the grace of a suckling lamb, eager for the nourishment he provided her soul. His arms closed about her tentatively, and he gasped as her protruding belly mashed against him. But she needed this, and if the babe had survived nearly three months of watery pottage and the dank dungeon and the near fatal kiss of fire, surely it could survive a jostling by its father.
She pressed closer, and at last Garth returned the hug, clasping her about the shoulders and back and head as if to assure himself that she was real. She burrowed her head against his chest.
His clothing smelled of smoke. Perhaps Linet was right, she thought with a smile. Duncan had set the fire a bit too soon. But none of that mattered now. Garth was here, safe, and she wanted nothing more than to snuggle against him for the rest of her life.
She hardly noticed when the cheer arose around them. Garth returned the encouraging calls with a smile and a wave.
Then he murmured to her, “You should go inside now, away from the bloodshed.”
Cynthia shook her head in apology. “Inside? I’ve spent almost three months inside. There’s nothing I want more right now than to feel the sun’s light and the wind’s breath.”
Garth tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded.
